


may tomorrow be wonderful too

by headphoneswrites



Category: Persona 5, Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Gen, TWEWY 10th anniversary, whats up im cryign
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-07 12:43:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11623794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headphoneswrites/pseuds/headphoneswrites
Summary: The story of five people Akira encountered throughout his journey, the mysterious pin that connected them, and how they changed his life- and he changed theirs.





	1. The Fool

The first time he encountered the strange pin, Akira met the man who changed his outlook on life completely. 

Akira had been in Tokyo for all of forty-six hours and already he felt like he had been trapped here his whole life, like the cruel press and noise of the crowds had worn him down to nothing. 

How was he supposed to last an entire year here? 

It was just as bad as where he had grown up, but bigger. The constant whispering and jeering and shouting and talking, as though everyone was in a constant battle to have their two cents heard above the rest. 

It reached the point of unbearable when he walked through the corridors of school or past a gaggle of students on the subway, everyone tripping over themselves to make some joke about what a delinquent he was. 

It wasn’t even about him; they barely even knew him outside of what they’d read online. They just wanted the shallow, fleeting approval of their friends, a few seconds of laughter before they moved on to some other amusement. 

As he listlessly let himself get pushed through the Scramble on his way back to Yongen-Jaya, he was grateful that at least he was safe from the whispers and suspicious looks he faced at school. On the busy streets of Shibuya, he was just another face in the crowd. 

But the crowds themselves were just as bad. Worst of all were the men in the flashy clothes slinking near the alleyways like wolves, staring bright-eyed and hungry like predators at all the pretty girls walking past, whether they be twenty-four or fourteen. He didn’t miss the way the girls watched anxiously out of the corners of their eyes, backs tense as bowstrings as they powerwalked for their very lives. Akira knew they were counting each step they took as a victory. 

It sickened him. Those men were no better than the drunk pervert who had been threatening that woman that night. He’d tried to stop that from happening, and just where had that gotten him, again? 

He was completely alone. He had no friends. The man who had taken him in hated him. His own parents hated him. They’d dropped him in a second as soon as he’d posed even the slightest threat to his father’s prestigious career. And now he was stuck here. 

 _Don’t think about it, Akira_ , he scolded himself. That was becoming his mantra lately. _Just don’t think about it. One year, and you can go home._

Go home to a place just as cold and empty as this one, to family that hated him just as much as Sojiro did. 

Actually, Sojiro was better. At least he’d given him his own space and actually made him breakfast once. That was more than he’d ever gotten at home. 

Akira sat down heavily on the tiny bench in the bus stop he could barely remember walking to, just as it began to rain. How convenient for him. 

He knocked his forehead against the clear glass wall, far too lost and exhausted to care about any strange looks he might be getting. 

He knew he should be getting back to the coffee shop, that Sojiro would give him dirty looks and maybe hold up his thumb and forefinger and say he was _this_ close to calling the cops and getting him thrown out on the streets. 

He didn’t care, he thought recklessly as he watched his breath fog up the glass. He didn’t care, even though he knew he should. He just needed a moment to let himself be scared and overwhelmed, here in this huge Shibuya, before he had to put up the quiet and stoic act around Sojiro, his teachers, everyone else. He knew that any emotion he showed would be met with distrust and contempt, as though it was all just the act of a lying, manipulative criminal. 

A dreadful sinking feeling was growing in his stomach as he thought about it. Going to school every day, trapped there. Walking through Shibuya every day, trapped there. Going back to Leblanc, trapped there. 

He clenched his hands around the straps of his book bag, his breath coming harsh and stuttering onto the foggy glass as he willed himself to calm down. It was raining and the crowds were dispersing in search of shelter; hopefully nobody would come this way for a while. He could just take a moment, nobody would bother him here- 

“You okay there?” 

It was a man’s voice, young sounding but definitely still an adult. 

Akira didn’t move for a moment, closing his eyes and debating whether or not to turn around. A few possible responses ran through his mind, most of them neutrally polite greetings drilled into him by his parents. Too bad he wasn’t feeling too charitable today. His patience with humanity at large had completely run dry. 

In the end, he didn’t move, didn’t even open his eyes. “What’s it to you?” 

Akira hadn’t meant to be so rude. But he felt completely broken down, as though one more harsh word from a stranger could crumple him into dust and blow him away. He didn’t have the energy to put up the nice act, not now.

But the man didn’t get angry like Akira was suspecting from an easily offended adult. He was just silent, and then-

“There are people in Shibuya who actually care, you know.” 

That got Akira’s attention. The way this stranger had hit the nail on the head without even trying, almost as though he could read his mind. 

Without really meaning to, Akira opened his eyes and unstuck his forehead from the corner of the bus stop, looking over at his mysterious conversation partner for the first time. 

He was a young man, probably about early twenties, just as Akira had guessed from his voice. His hair caught Akira’s eye, a gingery-orange spiky shock that he somehow managed to make look good, short, messy strands in front and a higher spike in the back. A glossy pin on the lapel of his jacket flashed in the light and caught Akira’s eye. It had a strangely familiar white design on it, something that Akira couldn’t quite place. 

He had a pair of sleek-looking headphones around his neck, Akira noticed, but he wasn’t using them, seemingly content to just listen to the hushed crackle of the rain.

He was quite handsome, too, eye-catchingly so. But more than his appearance, what truly struck Akira was how extraordinary the man seemed even from a first glance, out of place yet completely comfortable in his own skin. 

“Really?” Akira broke the silence skeptically. “’Cause I have yet to meet them.” 

The man with the headphones- it seemed right to call him that, somehow- eyed Akira consideringly, leaned against the bus stop wall with one foot up on the glass. Something about the slight rebelliousness in the pose made Akira relax, instantly trust him. 

“You should tell me about it,” The man with the headphones offered. 

Akira looked up. “About what?” 

“About why you feel that way.” He explained, like it was the simplest thing in the world to unload your entire life’s story on a complete stranger. “Everyone who feels the way you do has a reason.” 

Akira bristled, staring the man with the headphones down. His blue eyes were striking. “And how would you know?” 

The man with the headphones met his gaze without flinching. “Because I’ve felt that way too.” 

Akira was stunned into silence. His father always said that the most honest men were always the most stupid. This was the most honest man he had ever met, but quite certainly the farthest from stupid. He knew somehow, with more certainty than he had ever felt in his life, that he was telling the truth. More importantly, he knew that he would actually listen. 

And despite knowing he should be getting back, despite knowing how ridiculous and potentially dangerous it was to be unloading years of baggage on a complete stranger, Akira told him everything. From his undeserved charge of assault for just trying to do the right thing, his exile to the big city, all the way up to sitting at that very bus stop, alone in a darkening and rainy Shibuya. 

Akira was expecting the man with the headphones to recoil in fear or sudden misgiving when he talked about his criminal record, or maybe offer some false show of sympathy and a couple of broad platitudes before putting a safe distance between himself and the delinquent, like everyone else had once they heard his story.

Instead, the man just laughed, short and sharp. “Sucks to be you, I guess.” 

His words were blunt, but his smile was somehow reassuring, and a little proud, too.

Akira felt himself warming under that smile. “Yeah. I guess it does.” 

The man with the headphones raised a single eyebrow, still grinning, and Akira felt a laugh bubble out of his chest and shake all the weight out of his shoulders. He knew it was almost too much to hope, but for the first time, he felt like someone understood he had done the right thing. 

The man with the headphones crossed the bus stop in a few short steps, sitting beside Akira on the rusty bench and looking out with a little smile at the rain. He carried a messenger bag similar to Akira’s, just with a longer strap. “I’m not going to tell you to just keep your head down and wait it out like just about everyone else in your life probably has, ‘cause that’s bullshit.” 

Akira grinned at his fellow rebel, this strange new kindred spirit. “Thanks.” 

“But I’ll tell you this,” The man paused for a moment, as though weighing his words carefully. It was strange, Akira thought, to have someone care so much about what they said to him. “Don’t give up on other people just yet.” 

He thought of his parents, Sojiro, the students, the teachers, everyone who hated him on sight, day in and day out, no matter how hard he tried to prove them wrong. 

He was suddenly too tired to even be bitter. Just thinking about it took all the fight out of him. 

“…Why not?” Akira asked quietly. His voice sounded very small, almost drowned out by the rain outside.

Akira had hoped the man wouldn’t hear him, wouldn’t notice his sudden vulnerability. But his sharp eyes read Akira easily, and his face softened into a smile. 

“Because you’ll find people. People who will understand. People who will make you change, not because you have to, but because you _want_ to.” 

He had a wistful look in his eyes. Akira didn’t doubt for a second that this man had been like him once, and had found people who understood him. He said nothing. 

“That’s why you can’t give up looking for them. Some people are bad, but they’re not all bad. You just have to keep expanding your world.” 

“How?” Akira asked, clenching his bag strap tightly. 

“Talk to people; try to see their side. Find the good ones, and hang onto them. They’re out there. And, you know what?” The man smiled knowingly at him. “They’re probably looking for you, too.” 

Under that optimistic smile, Akira tensed his shoulders and looked away. He scoffed, trying not to show how badly he wanted that to be true. How certain he felt that it could never be. 

“What, don’t think it could happen to you?” The man correctly guessed, still with that same knowing smile. 

“…” Akira said nothing. There was no point. Sixteen years of feeling completely misunderstood, and this total stranger had him all figured out. 

“I don’t know what everyone else has said to you, and I don’t care. Something about a permanent criminal record, being alone for life and deserving it and all that. But none of it’s true.” 

Akira turned back towards him, no longer caring what his face gave away. He knew he wouldn’t be judged here.

“Even the worst, loneliest, most closed-off people can change. Trust me. I’ve been there.” 

“I trust you.” Akira said back, without really meaning to. He just somehow knew it was the right thing to say. 

A smile broke across the man’s face like those were his three favourite words. Maybe they were. 

“And that,” the man answered, smiling at Akira as though he had just passed some unknown test, “Is really all you need to do.” 

The warmest, most companionable silence Akira had ever experienced fell between them. It was late now, way past Akira’s curfew. Sojiro would have his head. He couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“I don’t get it, though,” Akira said, breaking the silence. “How you got all this out of me. I’ve never told anyone this stuff. And,” he continued, something new occurring to him, “Why bother? It’s not like you know me, or I’m important to you.” 

“To answer your second question, you remind me a little bit of…well, me, when I was fifteen.” 

Akira was sixteen, but he felt like saying that might be missing the point.

“And to answer your first question-” The man was quiet for a moment, curling his fingers over the sleeve of his overcoat. It was a really nice jacket, Akira thought, and he couldn’t imagine anyone else wearing it. It fit the man like it was made just for him. 

Akira wondered if all that was a coincidence. 

“-‘Sometimes all people need is a good listener.’ …Or, at least, that’s what I’ve heard.” 

The man said the words like he was handling a gift from an old friend. Something he carried in his pocket with him wherever he went, well worn and made precious by years of history. 

Akira didn’t ask. 

Instead, he found his eyes drawn back to the strange black pin on the man’s jacket, one of the first things that had caught his eye about him. 

“What’s that pin on your jacket? It looks familiar.” 

The man looked back up at him sharply. He seemed impressed, for a reason Akira couldn’t figure out. 

“It’s a promise,” He paused, considering, “Or a memory. Take your pick.” 

Akira arched an eyebrow. The man chuckled in response. “Sorry. That must’ve sounded pretty annoyingly cryptic. I guess one of my friends is rubbing off on me.” 

He made a face, seemingly not too excited by that prospect. The scowl somehow made the man look years younger, like he could be fifteen years old again and going to Akira’s school. Something about it made Akira smile. 

“What about the other ones? The ones on your bag, I mean.” 

“Huh? Oh, these?” The man asked, gesturing down at his messenger bag, which was nearly covered in pins. 

“Yeah,” He answered. There were all sorts of designs; a stylized graffiti hand, an orange flame, a soda can, a monochrome wolf. Oddly, the pin at the very centre of the bag was white, and completely blank. Akira could admit he was curious. 

“I just…like them. They went out of style a while ago, but I still think they look cool.” His smile was soft, sentimental. “Good memories, too. ” 

The man rubbed a finger over the centre pin as he spoke. Akira couldn't fathom what was so important about a blank white pin, or any of the pins, really, but he got the sense they were much more important to him than the man was letting on. 

But all he said was, “No offence, but wearing them on your bag like that kind of makes you look like a thirteen year old girl.” 

For a moment, the man with the headphones just stared at him in shocked silence. Then he threw his head back and laughed, loud and jubilant. He laughed like a person who didn’t do it often, but when he did, he really meant it. It was all but impossible to not join in, and Akira found himself doing just that.

 “You know,” The man said finally, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, “I’ve got a friend you should meet. She never shuts up about that,” He snorted. His laughter subsided, but the fond look in his eyes when he thought about his friend never did. 

You didn’t have to like everything about your friends, Akira supposed. You just had to love them more than they annoyed you. 

He wondered if he would know what that was like, someday. 

“-Do you ever get lonely?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Akira wished he could take them back. That question was as good as a confession, and kind, non-judgemental stranger or not, he had never spoken about this to anyone.

Akira heard the man shifting to look towards him and felt his shoulders tense. He knew how pitiful he must look right now, turned in on himself, looking down, still soaked from the rain like a drowned cat.

But the man with the headphones said nothing. He just shifted slightly closer, so he wasn’t quite touching Akira, but close by his side. It was nothing too suffocating, nothing too demanding- just a small, simple declaration of solidarity.

“Yeah. ‘Course I do.” The man said.

Akira didn’t move, but he felt his shoulders relaxing at the feeling of a comforting presence by his side. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed that.

“There’s someo- I mean, sometimes I get lonely. It’s the same for everyone. That’s just life, I guess.”

Akira looked up curiously. The man always seemed so sure of himself; that was the first time he had fumbled his words since he’d first spoken to him. His eyes looked sadder than his voice gave away.

“…But I’m alright.” The man looked back over at Akira. He still looked a bit sad, but his smile was genuine. “Because I’ve got friends who’ve got my back, and that makes all the difference.”

The man’s smile turned into a full-out grin. “And once you’ve got them too, you’ll know what I mean. Just take it one day at a time.”

Akira smiled back. It was the way the man had said it, like it would get better. No doubt about it.

“Yeah,” Akira nodded at him. “Yeah. I think will.”

“There you go.” The man looked at him proudly, as though just by saying he would try Akira had already achieved something great.

The two of them fell into another comfortable silence, and Akira watched the rain outside, just thinking.

He hadn’t missed the sad look in the man’s eyes, or the way he’d bitten off the word _someone._

Mysterious as the man was, Akira couldn’t help but wonder what he would have said had he not reconsidered his words.

Lost in thought, Akira didn’t notice the man getting up to leave. 

“I’ve got to go meet up with a friend of mine at the skate park,” The man said, adjusting his headphones as he looked out at the rain. “You going to be OK making it back in the dark?”

The man asked the question casually like anyone might, but Akira somehow got the sense that, unlike many others, he genuinely cared. Like if Akira said so, he’d actually take the time out to walk him wherever he wanted to go. 

That was more than he could say for just about everyone he knew. Akira couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the man to make him this way. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Akira reassured him, “I’ll be fine.” 

“As long as you’re sure. And for the record, you’ll be more than fine.” The man turned back to him, smiling like talking to a complete stranger in a rainy bus stop was the best experience of his life. “You’re great. You’re living in this wonderful world, after all. Enjoy the moment.” 

Akira was completely dumbfounded by this guy. He had never heard someone talk like that. 

He could only think of one way to describe it. 

“You talk about life like you’ve had a second chance at it.” 

Instead directing him to the nearest mental hospital like Akira half-expected him to, the man just grinned, a little mischievously. 

“Who’s to say I haven’t?” 

Leaving him with that, the man turned away, pulling his jacket up over his headphones and making his way through the rainy, deserted Scramble. 

Akira remained frozen in place, still and pensive, watching in a trance as the man’s purple jacket slowly became a purple dot and finally disappeared down a narrow side street he didn’t know the name of. 

Standing there in the rainy bus stop, Akira turned the man’s advice over and over in his mind long after he had gone, something that seemed so obvious but that so few people actually ever managed to grasp. 

_Enjoy the moment._

Akira took the long way back to Leblanc, catching raindrops on his tongue as he went. He shocked Sojiro out of his oncoming tirade by thanking him for waiting up and smiled himself to sleep, alone in a dusty old attic tucked away in a backstreet of Yongen-Jaya.


	2. The Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira meets yet another holder of the mysterious pin.

The second time Akira encountered a person wearing that strange pin, his life was a lot different.

The average person might assume that the birth of a mystical, godlike other self out of his psyche, the ability to use magic, and a new outfit that was, frankly, the coolest thing out of all of those things would be the cause. But Akira wasn’t the average person.

He had been unable to awaken his new power until he had a person he cared about enough to protect. He’d taken the mysterious man’s advice and opened himself up to others. That was the source of his new power. He knew that.

The outfit _was_ cool as hell, though.

It wasn’t some sudden, grand awakening, either. He hadn’t expected much from opening up at first, but he had told the man with the headphones that he trusted him. And he knew somehow, even though he wasn’t sure why or with what, that the man trusted him right back.

Even though he would most likely never see that man again and there would be no consequences if he did nothing, Akira didn’t want to let him down.

And so- now he had friends. Two of them- well, three, if you counted the black not-a-cat currently sleeping in his desk. Another of his friends was sitting in front of him, absently twirling a thick blonde pigtail as she tuned out Kawakami’s opening remarks. She looked exhausted.

Akira didn’t have to ask her why. He knew she’d been sitting by her best friend’s hospital bed all night last night, waiting patiently for her to wake up. A familiar, urgent frustration built up in him. All this new power, and he couldn’t do any more to help her…

He decided not to dwell on that right then.

Akira’s third friend was present too, less in the physical form and more in the form of an endless string of vulgar texts denouncing their P.E. teacher. Who, in a matter of days, they were going to track down and confront in the cognitive world of his mind, before using psychological voodoo to make him confess all his crimes.

Akira sighed. It was only Monday, and it had already been a long week. If he ever saw that man with the headphones again, the first thing he was going to ask him if opening up and making friends always came with weird magical powers that were, incidentally, entirely dependent on your bonds with those friends.

The sneaking suspicion that the man might just shrug and answer _yeah, comes with the territory_ was the most normal thought to occur to him all week.

A sudden hiss of whispers around the room caught Akira’s attention.

 _A guest teacher’s coming in today!_ The brown-haired girl who kept swearing she’d borrow his notes one day was saying. _From Shibuya!_

 _Man, that’s exciting,_ a boy with a bowlcut gushed to his friend. _Hope it’s a cute girl…_

The class seemed excited by the prospect of a fresh face. No surprise, really, considering that the usual topic of gossip was known delinquent Akira Kurusu actually answering a question correctly.

 _Nice not to be the center of attention for once_ , Akira thought wryly.

Kawakami was saying something about the guest teacher, most likely an introduction. Akira didn’t catch what she said, occupied by Ryuji’s latest text to his phone (a long string of ramen emojis and question marks that he interpreted as an invitation to dinner).

The whispers rose into a full-on tsunami as the guest teacher entered.

 _Oh-ho-ho MAN, I was right! It’s totally a cute girl!_ The boy behind him whispered ecstatically.

She certainly was very pretty, and young too, Akira mused, maybe five or six years older than them at the most. But there was something unique about her that couldn’t be quantified at all by her appearance.

Maybe it was the way she held herself, simple and unassuming but with a quiet power that made Akira feel small, even though she was easily the shortest person in the room, and he one of the tallest.

Her face glowed with interest as her eyes passed over the room, taking note of them all with fascination as though every single person in this sea of dead-eyed, sweaty teenagers held infinite potential.

Maybe it was that. The way she looked out at the world like she was seeing infinitely more than what was there. She looked over at Akira and he felt a warm glow pass over him, like sunshine.

A group of girls in the class seemed to find the guest teacher unique as well, Akira noticed, though for an entirely different reason than he did.

_See that bell necklace? It’s one of those rare Gatito ones!_

_Seriously?! People look for those for YEARS and never find one!_

_I wonder if she’d tell me how she got it…_

“I’m glad you like the necklace,” The group of girls instantly quieted as the guest teacher spoke in that soft voice. “I’d offer it to you three to share, but it’s too special to me to give away.”

“What’s special about it?” Asked one of the girls with interest.  In the presence of such an interesting and openhearted person, the usually half-asleep class was curious without restraint.

At the question, her hand flew up to grasp at the pendant, almost on reflex. Her expression became something complicated, flickering through surprise, regret, sorrow, and then back to that soft little smile, so quickly that if Akira hadn’t been watching her so intently he’d think he imagined it.

“Oh, it was a present from my brother when I was younger. It might seem silly, but he’d be disappointed if I gave it away.” She shrugged with a good-natured smile. Akira didn’t miss how she never let go of the pendant. “I’d give it to you if I could, though. I know they’re hard to find!”

The class seemed to take the answer at face value, but Akira was observant. He didn’t think she’d been lying, but there was definitely much more to the pendant than she was letting on. There was a story behind her strange reaction to the girl’s question, and Akira couldn’t help but wonder what it was.

“Before we talk about modern street poetry, my chosen career,” she continued, “I want to talk about something just as important. Something not just every poet, but every person, needs...”

She’d barely even started talking, and yet the entire class was completely under her spell. It wasn’t just her kind nature, but the way she spoke, carefully and mindfully like every word she said really _meant_ something. It reminded him of someone he’d met recently, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on who.

“…A dream.”

 _A dream_. Akira hadn’t really thought about his future past this year. A criminal record- and a strong distrust of adults and the entire working world- tended to do that to you.

“You might think I’m too out of touch with how things are for you guys today, coming in here talking about dreams. I promise you, I’m not. I’m young too, you know.” The guest teacher huffed a sigh, shoulders slumping a little. It made her look years younger. “I’ve already eaten cup ramen twice today. Once, I didn’t even put hot water in it ‘cause I didn’t want to pay for the electricity bill!”

The class laughed at that. Akira noticed that even Ann couldn’t help but giggle a little and he smiled too, despite the worries weighing heavily on his mind.

The guest teacher smiled back, clearly pleased at their laughter. “But, in all seriousness,” She continued, “Stuff like that is important, but it isn’t everything. Being a poet isn’t easy, and it doesn’t pay as well as some other things I could have done instead, but…”

The student teacher’s face darkened. “…When I was young, even younger than you are now, I lost my dreams. All of them. 

Akira looked up in surprise. He’d still been half-expecting some generic, comforting anecdote like they were always hearing at school assemblies. In front of him, Ann leaned forwards in her seat, so close to the edge he worried she might slip off. 

“…It was awful. The worst thing I ever had to go through. My dreams were all I had,” She tugged once at her necklace, as though for comfort, “And I had to go from being so excited to grow up and change the world, to wanting absolutely nothing at all.”

The class was dead silent. Ann was gripping the edge of her desk. Akira wondered if she was thinking of pushing through a gathering crowd, running to find a girl who had given up on herself and on the world.

“But I didn’t give up. Even when I wanted to the most, I had my brother and all his friends- _my_ friends- around me. And they helped me get through it. But, even they couldn’t do everything.”

She paused, fixing those wide, serious blue eyes on right on him. Akira didn’t look away. “I had to find a dream again, and I had to do it on my own.”

She turned back to the class, and the moment was gone as quickly as it had come. “It was my brother who suggested it to me,” She continued lightly. “I was always quoting sayings and making up my own, so why not be a poet? And I didn’t even want to try it at first, I was so discouraged, but he didn’t give up on me. So I did it.”

She paused for a moment. “I wouldn’t be standing here today without him.”

She said it as though she was stating a simple fact, but the look on her face gave Akira the sense there was more to it than that. Nor did he miss how her hand flitted ever so subtly to the necklace when she mentioned her brother. 

“And I learned to motivate myself again, little by little. Poetry is my dream, and it will always be hard, but there’s nothing else I would rather be doing.”

“That’s my challenge to all of you: to find something like that,” She continued, speaking softly into the quiet room. “And to surround yourself with people who will help you get there. Even if you don’t know it yet, I know you can find your own dream and break away from the crowd to follow it. If I did it, when I had no dreams left and nothing I wanted to do,” She continued gently, “Then all of you can, too.”

The class buzzed with energy, spurred into action by the inspiring words, but Akira was still, a cold feeling spreading slowly through his body.

He wondered if he could ever find something like that, a dream. Something he really wanted to do, past the boundaries of money or realism.

He flinched, unconsciously hunching his shoulders as the scornful, passive-aggressive voices of his parents and teachers flooded his mind.  

His first instinct was to doubt it, but… 

…He looked back into the poet’s hopeful eyes, and it occurred to him for the first time that maybe everyone was wrong about him. Maybe it was time to stop doubting himself. He’d doubted he’d ever make friends here, and he’d been wrong about that. Who was to say he couldn’t be wrong again?

Akira froze. Hadn’t this poet reminded him of someone he met? Someone he’d met recently?

_Hang on-_

“Being a poet is all about seeing more than just what _is_ ,” She leaned on the teacher’s desk thoughtfully, “You have to see what could be, all the possibilities. And that’s what I see when I look at all of you.”

It would be condescending and mechanical coming from anyone else at this school, but it was clear that she meant it. Akira could tell the rest of the class was aware of that, too.  Even the students who spent all of their spare time spreading petty rumours and bullying Mishima were held spellbound, shocked into silence by the presence of an adult who actually believed in them.

Kawakami cleared her throat noisily, shooting the poet a pointed look. She nodded in understanding, but made a face when Kawakami’s back was turned, and the class smothered their laughter in their hands. 

“As has been _requested_ , we’re going to move on to the main part of class now,” She said, rolling her eyes a little, “But if I have one last thing to say you guys, it’s this.”

“We live in such a big, wonderful world. There are so many possibilities around us, but so many people don’t take them, and then wish they did.” She smiled at them endearingly. “Live every day like it’s your second time living it!”

Akira startled in recognition. He’d heard that somewhere before-

_You talk about life like you’ve been given a second chance at it._

“Alright!” The poet went on happily, necklace catching the light as she walked, “Let’s move on. Modern street poetry is such a diverse topic, after all. We’ve got lots of ground to cover!”

_Who’s to say I haven’t?_

That had to be it. On a hard-evidence basis the connection was still tenuous, but Akira knew this poet and the man with the headphones definitely had to be connected somehow.

While Akira was thinking, she had launched into the body of her lecture on rap and modern street poetry. Despite Akira’s personal vested interest in all things anti-establishment, he found himself focusing more on the deliverer of the lecture than the lecture itself, and what drew him to her and the man with the headphones so much.

They were a different kind of adult- no, person- than he’d ever known.

It was that they listened, he realized. They listened, and they learned from everyone they met. It was an endless pursuit of learning and progress, horizons getting bigger by the moment.

 _You can’t teach that in a classroom_ , Akira thought.

One of the students who had been admiring the necklace asked a question Akira didn’t catch.

“That’s a really cool idea,” The poet said in surprise, “You know, even _I_ hadn’t thought of that!”

And suddenly, the class was alive with whispers; just a few at first, then many, ideas bouncing off each other like gas particles.

She’d _encouraged_ her, instead of shutting her down like any other adult at this school would’ve. She was here to teach, but she’d also learned. It was how ideas refined themselves and got better, evolution in a form small enough to be seen unfolding right before his eyes.

He’d wondered, when she came in, how the poet could look so light and cheerful, how she could look at the dreary classroom with such interest, how she could smile at them like she truly believed they could do great things.

It was because she was free from the burdens that society forced on all of them, not through magic, but through thought. In a way that was real and attainable.

In short, it was the exact opposite of every adult he’d ever known, and exactly the sort he wanted to be. And there was no way he was letting a chance to talk to her get away.

After all, who was Akira Kurusu if not a prisoner who wanted to be free?

\--

True to his word, Akira took off like a shot as soon as the last class of the day was dismissed, earning him a rather bewildered look from Ann and a protesting screech from Morgana, who had to dig his claws into Akira’s bag to stop himself from flying in the wind like a cat-shaped flag as he ran. 

“Yeesh! Watch it, Akira! You know me, I’m all about the ladies, but isn’t this a bit much just for some GIRL?!”

Akira looked back at him, disgusted. “Three things. One, she’s an ADULT, you nasty cat. An ADULT. Two, she’s an inspiration and what I want is ADVICE.”

“W-what’s the third thing?” Morgana asked, still clinging onto Akira’s bag for dear life with his claws. 

Akira smiled back at him in response. “Glad you asked. It’s ‘hold on’.”

“Wh-“

He tuned out Morgana’s unholy screech of protest as he sharply rounded a final corner, skidding to a stop as he noticed the poet’s short blonde head of hair bobbing up and down as she walked. She was already almost out the gate, a considerable distance away from him. Akira noticed with admiration the angel wings sewn onto the shoulders of her leather jacket. He (and Arsene) could appreciate a good aesthetic, after all.

A glint on the ground caught his eye. Akira walked towards it for a closer look.

No mistaking it- it was the mysterious black-and-white skull pin he’d seen the man with the headphones wearing. And the poet was the only one around, meaning she must have been the one who dropped it.

The man’s voice echoed in his mind. _It’s a promise, or a memory. Take your pick._

Just as he’d suspected, the two of them were connected somehow. Without another thought, Akira picked up the pin and ran.

She whirled around at the loud sound of his foosteps, eyes wide in surprise as she saw how quickly he was approaching.

“E-excuse me,” He huffed, stopping directly in front of her, “But I think you dropped this.”

He held out the pin and she gasped, reaching out at once to take it back.  

“Thank you so much! That pin is very precious to me, I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost it.”

She slipped it into her pocket and gave it a little pat. “There you are! All safe and sound.”

She looked back up at Akira, recognition dawning on her face. “Hang on, weren’t you in my morning lecture today? Ms. Kawakami’s class?”

“Yeah,” He answered, suddenly feeling somewhat shy, “I really liked it. The things you talked about- I’d never even considered them before.”

“It’s really good to hear that, actually!” She beamed at him. “I’m sort of new at this, so just knowing I could make one person look at things differently is good enough for me.”

Her head tipped ever so slightly and her eyes crinkled up at the corners as she smiled, and the sense of everything being right in the world returned to him. He got the sense that was her natural effect on people.

“I don’t think it was just me at all,” Akira answered. “I think…the whole class needed to hear that.”

Akira had never really considered the idea that he could do something he _wanted_ with his life. He’d been raised to believe in making money, supporting the family, and just generally living out your young life in penance for, well, being young. And he knew he wasn’t alone in that.

“You’re right, actually,” The poet said softly. “This place doesn’t exactly encourage dreams.”

That was exactly it, Akira thought. Ann, Ryuji, Shiho, Mishima, Akira himself, even the student council president- they were all living in a world without dreams.

“Until today,” Akira confessed, “I’d thought of dreams as something you abandon.”

Her eyes widened, his words clearly resonating with her. “They’re not.” She considered him for a moment before leaning forwards conspiratorially. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Go ahead.”

“Holding onto your dreams in a world that wants to steal them from you,” She said, eyes shining in the sunlight, “Is what being a rebel is all about.”

Akira felt, suddenly, as though he understood exactly what his new powers were for. 

“And if they’ve already been taken, we’ve got to steal them back,” He asked her, “Isn’t that it?”

She gave him an answering smile. “Exactly.”

They relapsed into a moment of silent companionship. The crowds of students leaving school for the day still whispered when they caught sight of him, but their words bounced right off him now.

Akira had been labelled a rebel more times than he could count. This was the first time he’d actually felt proud of it. 

There were no words Akira could come up with to adequately express his thanks to her, so instead he just said, “I like the angel wings on your jacket.” He gave her a thumbs-up, suddenly feeling rather awkward. “Great aesthetic.”

She laughed, and then smiled at him as though she’d understood what he’d meant to say. Somehow, Akira knew that she had.

“Thank you,” She answered breezily. “I can’t take the credit, though. That would have to go to the seamstress!”

Akira was astonished. _What seamstress could do such amazing work?_ Those wings were so detailed he would have almost thought they were real.

“What inspired them?” He asked conversationally.  

“Oh!” She said, looking up at him in astonishment. “No one’s ever asked me that before, but essentially,” She looked away, “it’s a bit of an inside joke. Between me and…my friend.”

The way she’d paused on the word ‘friend’ interested him, as though the truth was far too complicated to fit in that single word. The buckles on her jacket jingled cheerfully as she zipped it up against the spring chill.  

“I don’t really get to see him too much, so it’s just my way of remembering he’s out there,” She smiled and shrugged her shoulders gently, “If that makes sense!”

The man with the headphones came suddenly to the forefront of Akira’s mind. When Akira had asked him about loneliness, he’d been about to say a word that was unmistakably _someone_. And the wistful look he’d had in his eyes then was the same one the poet had now as she spoke of her lost friend.

_Given their connection…could it be the same person?_

Akira opened his mouth to ask, and perhaps get one step closer to solving this puzzle, but before he could say a word-

“HEY! WHAT’CHU DOIN’ WITH MY SISTER, YO?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the Rhyme chapter! I chose The Star arcana for her because it symbolizes hope and renewal, which I think fits her perfectly. 
> 
> If you need some refreshers on some of the stuff discussed in this chapter, check out item description #244 and the secret report for Week 3 Day 3 in TWEWY. I'm sure it's clear who's up next, so sit tight! Hope you're as excited as I am!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed it! You can also find the fic on my tumblr headphoneswrites. 
> 
> Fun fact about the chapter titles: they're based on which arcana I personally think each TWEWY character would fit into. Guess who's next!


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